Ninda's stride was as brisk and purposeful as ever, a stark contrast to the quiet atmosphere of the hidden Seirei facility. As she approached the doorway of the medical ward, she came to a halt and handed Makoto a small, white keycard. The card felt cold and sterile in his hand.
"Behind this door is Airi," she said, her tone as curt and unyielding as a stone wall. "After you've seen her, go to the room I assigned you earlier. You'll sleep there tonight."
Makoto opened his mouth to thank her, but the words died on his tongue. Ninda had already turned away, her silhouette disappearing around the corner with a silent efficiency that was unnerving.
"…Right," Makoto muttered to himself, pocketing the card. He let out a long, weary sigh, then braced himself before stepping into the room.
Inside, Airi lay in a narrow bed, a faint, rhythmic beeping from the machines around her the only sound besides their breathing. Her face was pale, but her tired eyes shone with a familiar warmth as she offered him a small, weak smile.
"You didn't barge in yelling like last time," she said, her voice a soft murmur.
Makoto felt a smirk tug at his lips as he walked to the edge of her bed and sat down. "Yeah, well… I figured you'd just knock me out if I did."
Airi's smile widened slightly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She winced a little, then relaxed. "I would've. But, you know… tubes and needles."
The humor faded from Makoto's expression, replaced by a genuine fear that still gnawed at him. "You scared me, Airi. When you collapsed… I thought I lost you."
Airi's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she quickly looked away, a stubborn set to her jaw. "Baka... Don't talk like that. I'm not weak. Save your concern—I'm stronger than I look."
He smiled softly, nodding in understanding. "I know. Sorry."
She relaxed slightly, her gaze returning to his. "The doctor said I'll be okay. Just rest for a few weeks. No more of that disgusting drug either. That stuff nearly killed me." A genuine smile brightened her face, chasing away the exhaustion.
Makoto felt a wave of relief wash over him, a physical weight lifting from his shoulders. "Good."
A comfortable silence settled between them, the steady beeping of the machines filling the space.
"Aren't you curious?" he asked after a while.
"About what?"
Makoto tilted his head, his eyes scanning the sterile room. "Where you are."
She shrugged, her gaze unfocused. "I asked the doctor. He said you brought me here. So, I figured… wherever this place is, it's safe. Because it's you."
Those words, so simple and filled with unwavering trust, caught him completely off guard.
"…I love you," Makoto blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them.
Silence.
Airi blinked, her cheeks instantly going a deep, furious red. Then—
CRACK!
Her fist, a surprising blur of motion, smashed into Makoto's nose, sending him crashing to the floor with a shout of pain.
"OW—WHAT THE HELL!?" he yelled, holding his face as a sharp pain blossomed across his features. He scrambled to add the clarifying words. "I meant as a sister!"
"Idiot!" she yelled, her voice a mix of embarrassment and fury. She turned away and buried her face under the blanket, the fabric rustling as she shifted. "Just get out!"
Makoto grumbled, stumbling to his feet and still rubbing his nose. "Geez… You need serious help. I think you broke something…"
He staggered out into the hallway, a hand still pressed to his face. "I swear, she's getting way too strong. It's almost impossible to hurt me… but she managed it."
He made his way to the kitchen, a single-minded quest for ice driving him forward. As he entered, he spotted Ninda and the Boss talking in hushed, urgent tones. Ninda's frown deepened when she noticed him, but she didn't say anything. The Boss gently waved her off, and she exited stiffly, brushing past Makoto without a word.
"She really doesn't like me," Makoto commented, his voice muffled.
The Boss chuckled, a weary sound. "That's just Ninda. Don't take it personally."
Makoto folded his arms, a fresh wave of irritation washing over him. "Who said I wanted to talk to you?" he muttered, brushing past the older man and heading toward the freezer. "I came for ice, not bonding time."
The Boss gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to leave—but Makoto's next words froze him in place.
"Takumi Enatsu didn't know Kyoka Katsuragi died."
The Boss stopped mid-step, his back to Makoto.
Makoto's voice sharpened, the casual bravado gone. "Since you're here… why don't you explain how he died? Or do you not know either?"
The Boss turned back with a small, solemn smile, his gaze distant. "I know. I met Kyoka once, a long time ago."
He walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on the empty space outside.
"There were only twelve of us back then. Twelve exorcists in this region. But Kyoka stood out. When he was active, the death rate plummeted. Even the wildest Seireis worshipped him. But he never bragged—just smiled, made stupid jokes. I remember a reporter once asked him what made him different. He laughed and said, 'Probably because I'm the biggest fool here.'"
Makoto paused, the cold from the ice pack doing little to numb the ache in his heart. For a brief moment, a memory surfaced—a warm smile, strong arms holding him as a child—but the image was hazy, like a fading dream he couldn't quite grasp.
The Boss continued, his voice dropping to a somber tone. "Then came Damein. He wasn't scouted—he appeared on his own. He saved hundreds from a building collapse before we could even arrive. He idolized Kyoka. They were like brothers. Stronger than any of us combined."
"But something changed. Damein began questioning our ways. He believed it was more efficient to kill Seirei than exorcise them. He said exorcism was 'too slow.' At first, we thought it was just theory. But then… he started doing it."
The Boss clenched his fists, the knuckles turning white.
"He went rogue. Killed Seirei and humans alike. No one could stop him. His Standz ability… it let him disassemble and rearrange matter with a touch. Molecules, atoms, even blood. Invincible."
Makoto narrowed his eyes. "What about The Seven?, I heard stories about them growing up, those people I know to well."
The Boss's voice turned bitter, laced with a deep-seated anger. "The Seven? Don't even mention those bastards. They're supposed to be the strongest in the world. Tasked with protecting every region. But when we begged for help, they ignored us. Not one of them came."
"Why?"
"Because our region isn't 'important.' That's what they said. We could all die, and no one would care."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell between them.
"Only Kyoka stood up. He had the power to nullify Standz. He fought Damein one-on-one. Their battle tore half a city apart. In the end, Kyoka sealed Damein away—but the caster of a seal is bound with the sealed. He sacrificed himself to trap Damein forever."
Makoto stood still, the weight of the revelation settling over him. This wasn't just a mission; it was a legacy.
The Boss offered a tired smile. "Get some rest. We've got a long day ahead."
As Makoto turned to leave, the Boss watched him with a strange, knowing look in his eye.
"…Like it or not," he muttered to himself, the words barely audible, "you're like him. A Katsuragi. You're his son."
Makoto reached his room, physically and emotionally exhausted. He didn't know what to make of anything anymore. He had a family he never knew and a duty that seemed impossible to bear.
"I'll just sleep it off," he mumbled.